


Safe Keeping

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dark Magic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grinding, Inappropriate Erections, Italian Character(s), Magic Fingers, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering, Voodoo doll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Copia finds the voodoo doll of you that you crafted, and enacts a fantasy of his upon it.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Cardinal Copia/Sister(s) of Sin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	Safe Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> Originally requested on my tumblr!

Ever since the first Emeritus brother had spent one afternoon showing you how to craft dolls, you had wanted to make your own.

Primo had shown you the collection he had started in the abundance of down time he had since passing on his position as head of the Church years ago. He showed you how he whittled and painted his marionettes, glued and painted broken, cracked and unwanted china dolls, and your favourite: how he created voodoo dolls.

He had been eager to show you that, as he had a fondness for witchcraft. He told you all about his visit in his youth to Louisiana and meetings with truly gifted witches and weavers of voodoo and hoodoo. With his wealth of knowledge, he had helped you create a doll in your image, using the tried and true materials– real hair, blood, and the tip of your fingernail.

The voodoo he had learned from the masters in the Bayou had taken him far, but it was not associated with Satanic necromancy, so there had been limitations. With no small amount of pride, he had explained to you that he had himself come up with a ritual curse so powerful that even the slightest touch could be felt on the person the doll’s likeness resembled. Case in point: Primo had demonstrated using two voodoo dolls he had created of his younger brothers. He had made you swear down and up to Satan below you wouldn’t tell them, as this was one of his most guarded secrets that he had made these (only for the most infrequent entertainment, of course). You weren’t about to ruin the fun and tell.

“Shhh, il mio piccolo protetto. Observe,” the old man had hissed to you, holding up a finger from the corridor you two had hidden down. You did as he said, watching the two younger brothers walk by you chatting. Primo took his chance, and made Terzo’s doll slap Secondo’s on the back of his little bald head. Of course, this is what occurred for real as well, Terzo smacking the middle Emeritus so hard his sunglasses flew off. Secondo stopped in his tracks, shoulders going up, and Terzo looked utterly stunned.

“N-now, wait. Fratello– wait! It wasn’t– YAAAH!” the current frontman yelped, and Secondo growled, grabbing him by the collar with both hands. You had stolen the doll, and tried something a little different– you had placed a single finger between Terzo’s doll’s legs. You looked up, and saw Terzo stare in horror down at his crotch, nearly suspended in the air by Secondo’s grip. “Cazzo! Th-This is not what it looks like!”

Primo had guided you away with a dark chuckle before you witnessed any escalation, thoroughly pleased with himself for creating such turmoil. Sometimes the quietest get away with the most, you had thought with a smirk. Then you got to thinking of the sexual reaction you had been able to create. You wonder with building anticipation if Primo had made a voodoo doll of the Cardinal… You decide against asking. Despite the Cardinal fighting tooth and nail for the prestige of being the next frontman, Primo (or any of the Emeritus brothers) probably barely gave Copia a second thought.

This is in contrast to you, whose dreams both waking and nocturnal were consumed by the man in the red cassock.

This evening, you’re reading in the library. You have a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories, reading it by candlelight beside the sprawling stained glass mural depicting Lucifer’s fall. Heavy rain beats down outside behind you, and you smile, settling further into the thick of your scary book. The perfect night.

The three black candles beside you flicker, and you frown at the candelabra. No windows are open. No one else is in this part of the library, and you know for a fact that the clergy’s spirits don’t haunt this area of the Ministry… they prefer the mausoleums and the game room, since Papa III always tries to blame them when he loses at Uno. You shrug it off, and go back to your reading.

Over on the opposite side of the Ministry, Copia sits in the chapel, a couple rows back from the front. He spends every other night here, using the quiet time and serenity to speak to the Olde One and get the day’s troubles off his chest. He came in the evenings, since all the Siblings of Sin were busy sucking and fucking before midnight mass. Copia would be too, if he wasn’t so tortured by the thought of one Sister in particular. He had to admit, he had turned down quite a few Siblings’ invitations to bed these last few weeks for the sole reason that they were not Sister (y/n), and this had left him more than a little frustrated. Unsatisfied, horny beyond belief saddled with this pent-up arousal, he was left with no other choice nightly than to fuck his fist like it was the object of his affection and lust, only your imagined moans of his name getting the job done.

“But, you see…” Copia tuts, looking up at the alter where a sculpture of Satan had been placed among candles, “I’m sure she wants Emeritus Three. Everyone does. Or Two, even. Maybe One. One, at least, is a part of the bloodline. That is attractive. I am only a Cardinal, and for what that old sour puss lacks in charm, he makes up for in power. What is more attractive than _that_?” He glares at the marble Beelzebub, and huffs. “I could be powerful, if given the chance. You have no fucking idea how powerful I could be– if I were Papa, I would bring entire institutions to their kne…” His fantasy trails off as he notices something at his feet. He frowns, leans down, and picks up a small stitched together doll. “Hello,” he whispers, turning it around in his black gloves. His eyebrows lift as he realizes what it is, and who it is. 

His first reaction is concern– who in the clergy was out to get (y/n)? Papa or not, he would burn this place to the ground to find out who meant you harm, and he had the authority to reenact the goddamn Spanish Inquisition if he so wished… then his gears began to turn. Primo Emeritus made dolls. He had seen you with him a few times. Perhaps this was simply a companion to you, a voodoo doll of yourself you carried with you. Unfortunately, it appeared you had dropped her at mass this morning. Copia begins to smile. This was a blessing in disguise– this meant he had a reason to seek you out and give it back!

He begins to idly rub circles around the chest area with his thumb as he pictures this. Something dawns on him, looking down at the motions he’s making on the doll. The seemingly perpetual bulge under his cassock begins to grow as he wonders if you can feel it.

In the library, you pause your reading. You can feel something pleasant– a warmth in your chest, as if phantom fingers were giving you a massage. You quickly look behind you to make sure no one had crept up… but no. Nothing but the windows. Another wave of pleasure washes over you as you feel the sensation of hands on your breasts– unmistakable this time. Your hips rock down in a slow gyration against the chair, the lovely feeling igniting something inside you.

 _Who’s doing this? And how?!_ Magick thrives within the Ministry and its inhabitants, so it could be anybody. This felt powerful, though. Could it be Papa? Out of all the brothers, he was the most versed in telekinesis. No… Emeritus III had never given you a second look. Besides, his attention is under lock and key right now to that one Brother of Sin he had been entertaining in his chambers for the past week, and the rest of the harem he had at his beck and call.

You let a low moan slip, as you feel a touch to your stomach, down over your hips. Your body shivers in anticipation, but you look around. Though they are not close, there are others in the library at the moment. You crane your neck to see how far away they are, but your position is changed as the touch finally reaches between your legs.

“Oh…” you whisper, arousal burning. You grasp the sides of the chair, trying to keep a straight face. It’s strange to feel such pleasure when there’s no one to encourage… you wonder if it’s just your body, your imagination. Maybe you weren’t observing the first of the Seven Deadly Sins enough… or perhaps you were too lustful, cursed to remain in such a state without the satisfaction of the one man you need to alleviate you. _Then you remember._

Your hand flies to your pocket, where you had stashed your voodoo doll. You swallow. She’s missing. Your heartbeat quickens in excitement as your mind races. Who had found her? Who had decided it would be a good idea to– _ooohhh._ Your eyes roll back. Whoever this was, they knew how to stroke. You find your mind wandering to who you hoped it was. _Cardinal_ , you mouth, not daring to whisper it out loud. It probably wouldn’t be the first time anyone’s had an orgasm in this library, but you didn’t wish to flaunt it.

In the chapel, Copia’s breath hitches. He wonders if you can feel any of this at all, or if he’s just fingering a doll like an idiot. The more he rubs between the legs though, heat grows on the small object of voodoo. Somehow, he knows it’s working.

Your pussy clenches, desperate to be filled. The touches are getting faster, never losing their rhythm. Whoever it is, has definitely fingered someone before. In fact, they’re quite a talent at it. _Fuck, that’s good._ Your clit throbs with the attention, and your toes curl as your orgasm already begins to build. “Yes,” you can’t stop yourself from whispering, “Please, please, please…” You nearly lift out of your seat at the feeling. Then you hear it, a faint ghostly whisper in your left ear:

_It is me, cara. It is your Cardinal. Cum for me._

“Ah,” you whine, not caring who hears you. They _are_ his touches… fuck. There’s nothing hotter you could possibly imagine. You grind down hard into the chair as you teeter on the edge, the echoes of his voice in your ear pushing you toward your finish.

Copia nervously straightens, moving his lips away from the doll’s ear. He hopes you had been able to hear his voice. He then traces a perfect circle between the legs, changes directions of it, and rubs quickly. The warmth grows, and the Cardinal is treated to a lovely surprise. He pulls his fingers away, fascinated by the slick on them. _He had brought you to orgasm._ He lets out a grunt as he bites his fist and cums in his pants. He blinks down at himself, at the wet spot that now stains the front of his cassock.

“Merda,” he mutters, “Che maledetto casino.” He hadn’t even realized he had been that hard. He had been so focused on bringing you pleasure, wherever you may be, that he hadn’t even thought of his own needs. He looks around, a blush heating up his cheeks. His eyes finally fall to the statue of Satan, who he points at with a scowl. “Don’t give me that look. I know you did this at least once, infernal majesty.”

With that, he gets up, straightens himself out to be presentable, and slips your voodoo doll into his pocket. Patting it once, he tries not to think of what he will say when he finally does give it back. He exits the chapel, lighting a black prayer candle on his way out.

You stand up, knees threatening to buckle. Edgar Allen Poe forgotten, you pick up the candelabra to guide your way out. You need to return to your room for a shower immediately before you fall asleep standing up. Despite you being alone, your body felt like you had just been ravaged, and the satisfaction had settled so deep into you that you know you would doze off if you spent another minute in the library.

You hurry down the hall, cheeks flushed. Passing Siblings give you knowing looks– everyone sexually active around here knows what a good fuck feels like better than anyone– but nobody knew the secret of who it was and how it had happened.

Copia walks swiftly down the corridor, keeping his head down and doing his best to stay in the shadows. He didn’t want anyone to notice the stains on his cassock, though he could probably fib his way out of it. He really wasn’t in the mood for chatting with anyone at the moment either; he had to get back to his chambers now, before he started to get hard again from the memory.

As you turn a corner to get to the dormitory wing where the chapel is at the end of the hall, you run into someone. “Oh!” the man says, steadying you. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, my head is not on right tonight…” Copia falters. “Sister.”

“Cardinal,” you breathe. He regards your pink-tinged cheeks and sated posture.

“Ehh… you dropped this!” he says, digging out your doll and thrusting it into your hands. You flash him a small smirk, and tuck it back into his pocket, dangerously close to his crotch.

“For safe keeping.”


End file.
